Five O’Clock Shadow (22 page)

“You let us know. We gotta go.”

Before she could respond, the two bounded off the steps and took off across the park. She watched them cross the street and run towards the back of the parking lot and the commotion as the big tent was being raised. How could she talk with him again?

She'd have to find a way.

But this child did not know Randy. She wanted to scream it out, jump up and down, do something. All this time she had believed that Randy could be involved with a child. Only to find out the picture was a fake. She'd check out the picture the minute she got back to Albuquerque. Find out how it had been done. Some computer hocus-pocus, she imagined.

And the adoption papers, they were false, trumped up to look real from an agency that never existed for a child that maybe never existed either. Then the question of why interrupted her reverie. Why did Randy have that picture and document in his safe deposit box? Making it look like this was his family? Dear enough to keep safe…hidden and away from her?

She sat back down. It simply did not make sense. Did the fact that this child had only met Randy once make Randy any less a candidate for pedophilia? Not exactly. But a gut-level feeling said that it did. Something wasn't quite right. She just couldn't put a finger on it. But she was closer to the truth. She had to question Paco about the other photos.

Chapter Nine

She'd fallen asleep on the couch in the motor home and woke to the sound of Steve's key in the lock. It was late in the afternoon. She switched on two floor lamps and pulled the drape across the front window. Pauly couldn't believe how tired she still was. Trauma probably brought on by everything that had happened. And she felt safe here buried in the middle of a group of people, safe enough to relax.

“I tried to get out of it. Told them I had a hot date. But actually I really need to socialize.” He was trying to explain why they wouldn't be having dinner alone later. And that was all right. In fact, it made things easier. She wouldn't have to make polite conversation, hide the fact that she was thinking of something else. She wasn't going to be very good company no matter how hard she tried. Steve had walked back to the bathroom to wash up. Pauly pulled a beer from the fridge and popped the cap.

“It's okay. Really. Do you know where we'll go?” She raised her voice to be heard above the tap.

“Shangri La. Chinese restaurant on the Sixteenth of September Avenue.” He had turned off the water and walked back into the living area drying his hands. “I never asked if you liked Chinese. But this place is supposed to be great. Been there forever. Everyone recommended it. I just hate it that we won't be able to go until after nine.”

“No problem. I'm anxious to see the show. Is everything set up?”

“Yeah. Even got a bunch of teenagers already on the rides and losing a few bucks trying to win stuffed animals.”

“That's great.”

“Wouldn't you think they'd have something better to do Christmas Eve?”

“Teenagers?”

“You're right.” Steve laughed. “Now the show tonight's a different story. Good family entertainment. Something different to do on the eve of a holiday, sponsored by a reputable group. Should be a good money-maker.”

“When do you have to get back?”

“Now, I'm afraid. Coming?”

“Just let me run a comb through my hair and grab a jacket.”

She set her beer in the sink and went back to the bathroom, such as it was. She tied her hair back at the neck with a ribbon, a touch of blusher, a little lipstick and she looked human, not like some sleep-drugged zombie. She walked back out front and picked up the down vest she'd thrown on a chair.

Steve kissed her before opening the door. He slowly turned her so that she was facing him and leaned down to find her mouth, a finger tilting her chin back. She wanted to react, open her mouth, kiss him back, but she felt herself go wooden. She was still a little too preoccupied with the results of the afternoon's interview. If he was surprised at her unresponsiveness, he didn't say, just pulled back and smiled, didn't try again and didn't question. He was quiet as they walked back across the lot.

Pauly was surprised at how everything had changed. The tent was the center of attraction, highlighted by spotlights, and a Klieg light swept a hundred-and-eighty-degree arc across the sky. Parking attendants in uniforms and white gloves waved flashlights and directed cars into neat rows.

Pauly was amazed at how full the lot was already, and the show wouldn't start for another forty-five minutes.

“I didn't think there would be this many people.”

“Supposed to have three hundred families.” He paused to follow her through the flap into the tent. “At two hundred and fifty dollars a family, that's seventy-five thousand for charity.”

“Not bad. But who pays the carnival?”

“Local businesses have pledged to match up to two-thirds of whatever we raise. And the parade tomorrow was a flat thirty thousand. Concessions and all monies from the midway go directly to the carny. Should be worth our while to come down. It'll put a couple thousand in everyone's pocket after expenses.”

Pauly found her own seat near the back. Steve was paged to go backstage. She had hoped he'd invite her to go with him. But he didn't. Maybe she should have asked. She wanted to question Paco again but knew there wasn't a chance in the frenzy of getting ready to put on a show. She'd have to be content with trying to find him tomorrow.

She watched the audience file in. Families. Mothers and fathers and children talking excitedly, looking forward to a special treat on Christmas Eve. Pauly felt her chest constrict. Wasn't this what her dream had been? Her dream with Randy? The perfect family doing things together? Instead, she was looking over her shoulder trying to detect a killer by quickly scanning the group of people filling the tent. Tears stung her eyelids. She blinked and swallowed and the moment seemed to pass.

If the four or five instances of show-stopping applause were any measure of success, they were a hit. And after three encores for the dog act, it was finally over. Steve was beaming as he caught up with her by the back entrance.

“Not a hitch.”

“I think you've earned your stripes.”

“Still a parade to go. I've called a cab. No reason to take the motor home across the river. The guys are going to meet us at the restaurant.”

Pauly wasn't sure what guys…no matter. The cab was waiting and she got in, thankful for its warmth. The evening had turned chilly. The clear sky was brightly decorated with stars and a full moon; beautiful, but there were no clouds to act as a blanket and keep the night from turning cold.

The moment the cab pulled away from the check points and started across the bridge at the border, Pauly felt she was in another country. It was too dark to get a good look at her beloved Rio Grande. But somewhere fifty feet below, its murky waters were flowing steadily towards the Gulf.

The shops that were clustered close to the bridge slowly turned into homes, tall green or pink or white stucco ones built flush with the street and each other, decorative iron gates enclosing carports underneath the second story. The street was paved but needed repair. The going was slow before the street turned into four lanes, divided by a sparsely planted median.

Street vendors pushed carts up side streets. Going home? Or just starting work. It could be either. Nine was a fashionable time to dine so lots of people were out. Buses traveling to the border from the interior tilted and rocked on bad suspension, belching black smoke from overworked engines as they tediously accelerated away from stop signs. The racks on top were packed with goods, some of it alive, Pauly noticed, as a chicken poked its head through the slats of its crate.

Suddenly the cab slowed, then darted to the curb. Pauly could see the Shangri La sign on the roof of the building. The restaurant looked upbeat. A red and gilt round doorway curved up out of an oriental landscape of bonsai evergreens and now-brown clumps of pampas grass.

The interior was red and black. What could be lacquered, was, including the arms of chairs, the cashier's counter, and the frames of delicate screens that separated seating areas. It was garish. Yet oddly pleasant, and smelled divine. Pauly's stomach gave a lurch as she breathed in the aroma of freshly grated ginger.

“Looks like they beat us here,” Steve said.

The hostess was directing them to a table for four in a back corner. Two men were already at the table and both stood as they approached.

“Edgar Smiley, the carnival's bookkeeper. Chuck Bond, Midway boss. This is Pauly Caton, Lulu's granddaughter.”

“Ed, how are you? Ed and I go way back.”

“I knew Pauly when she kept her eyes closed going through the haunted house,” Ed offered.

“And that was just last year.” Steve threw in as everyone laughed, Pauly the hardest.

“I thought I had everyone fooled.”

“Not this old goat. Your grandmother sure wanted you to be a carnival groupie, but I used to tell her it didn't look like it was going to take.”

“She tried pretty hard to convince me.” Pauly sat opposite Steve and pulled her chair close to the table. The shiny black armrests were just the slightest bit tacky to the touch.

“You can say that again. Got you to go to school at the local college, then got you a job that'd keep you from straying.”

“Got me a job? I don't understand.” Pauly looked at him quizzically.

Immediately Edgar looked like he could bite his tongue but was saved saying anything by the interruption of the waiter bringing water.

“Ed's the one who's been coming here for years. I vote we let him order for all of us,” Chuck said.

“That's all right by me. How 'bout it, Pauly?” Steve was watching her. His smile seemed a little forced. Was he trying to get her to forget what Ed had said? Gloss over an obvious
faux pas
and get on with dinner?

“I think that's a good idea,” she said.

The next few minutes were taken up by Ed's ordering. The waiter nodded and pointed to the menu every once in awhile, but it was obvious that Ed was in control. She tuned out and turned her attention to Steve and Chuck, who were discussing a problem with the Ferris wheel.

She didn't have a chance to ask Ed to explain until after the six courses including appetizer had been served, eaten, and empty platters removed. Conversation had been polite, funny even, when Ed and Chuck started telling carnival war stories.

Finally, Steve and Chuck excused themselves to go to the men's room. Even though Pauly would have liked to have gotten rid of what felt like an entire pot of green tea sloshing around inside her, she wanted to hear what Ed had to say.

“Hey kid, I was off base earlier. I think I assumed because of your grandmother's interest in MDB, that she might have put in a good word for you.” Ed nervously took a sip of water, his Adam's apple jerking up and back quickly in his sinewy neck. “But I have nothing to back that up. It's just plain old assumption that just made an ass out of me.”

Pauly ignored any veiled plea to put him at ease. She needed some more information.

“Is Grams more than an investor?”

“No, no. But she is one of those who bought in low and has done well. And here I am telling tales out of school again.” Nervous laughter. “Guess it's okay to discuss business with a relative.”

“It's fine, Ed.” Pauly patted him on the arm. She really did have fond memories of this man.

“What's Grams' relationship to Hofer?” She hadn't planned on asking that, but the time seemed right and certainly Ed would know.

“Oh, on and off again friends. Your grandmother got into a money bind a few years back. Taking in a partner seemed the logical thing to do.”

“There's nothing romantic?”

“Romantic? Between those two?”

“They're not planning on marrying?”

Ed laughed, a big guffaw of sound before he sputtered and had to take a drink of water.

“That's like throwing cats and dogs together. They've made the partnership work, but it hasn't been easy.”

Pauly nodded. She could see why.

“You know, there was a time I fancied myself in line for the throne.” Ed had leaned his elbows on the table.

“You mean with Grams?”

“Yep. Your grandmother's one pretty woman.”

“Maybe it's not too late.” Pauly was sincere. Grams could do a lot worse than Edgar Smily.

“Uh…helps if the current husband's out of the way, now doesn't it?”

Current husband? Who was the current husband if it wasn't Hofer? And he'd just said that Hofer wasn't a romantic interest…. So what was he talking about? But she didn't have a chance to ask as Steve and Chuck pulled out their chairs and rejoined them.

“Hate to break up a good party, but I need to be getting back. Midway's open another couple hours and if things are going to go wrong, it's apt to happen now,” Chuck said.

“We'll share a cab. I'd like to check a couple rides before we call it a night.” Steve helped Pauly with her jacket.

This time the ride across the bridge went quickly. She listened to the men talk business but tuned out to dwell on her grandmother. To say the least, Grams had a few secrets. Why wouldn't she have mentioned her husband? And what was this nonsense about getting Pauly a job at MDB?

Instead of being dark and vacant, the midway was ablaze with lights and probably a couple hundred people. Almost midnight on Christmas Eve, Pauly marveled, and all these kids and young adults were plunking down three to five dollars for rides or games of chance.

“I'll walk you back to the motor home.” Steve helped her out of the backseat of the cab.

“Actually, I thought I might tag along.”

“Are you sure? I'll be talking business. I won't be very good company.”

“That's okay.”

“Great. Let's go.”

He seemed genuinely pleased that she wanted to get involved. And she was intent on finding Paco or Davy, preferably Davy, who could set up a meeting for the three of them in the morning.

She started to relax with Steve's arm around her. They were walking towards the Ferris wheel, which, it seemed, was giving the mechanics fits. Steve excused himself and said he'd meet her by the gate to the midway in fifteen minutes; if he wasn't there she was to come back and drag him away. He was starting to talk and act like a man with plans after the midway shut down. Plans that included her.

And maybe that was all right. Pauly liked being with him, liked the feel of strong arms…he made her feel safe. Somehow sleeping alone in the motor home wasn't looking too inviting. She felt a little thrill of excitement, just a tiny jolt that made her shiver. She'd never given Steve a chance. He'd been a truly great friend and she'd ignored it, pushed him away. She'd probably put too much emphasis on finding that ski mask. Well, maybe tonight would be different. Maybe she was ready now, was smart enough to keep an open mind.

She wandered over to a merry-go-round. The horses were brightly painted but looked pre-pressed, two-piece configurations that came packaged like that, ready to mount on poles and be set in a circle. The horses bobbed up and down to recorded calliope music and had only one rider accompanied by an older child who looked bored, but held his smaller companion securely in the plastic saddle. Next to the ride was a house of mirrors, then a booth offering chances for stuffed animals if a series of rings landed where they should. Beyond that a snow-cone vendor was packing it in, folding and latching wooden shutters across the front of his booth.